On the Road Again
by Tiana Calthye
Summary: A retelling of the journey from Bree to Rivendell. Based on the books by J.R.R. Tolkien, though the opening scene is from the movie. Chapter two up: The hills leading to Weathertop.
1. Second Breakfast and the Marshes

On the Road Again.

A retelling of the trip from Bree to Rivendell.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings.

(A\N: This is based on the books, though the opening scene is from the movie.)

Part One: The Marshes

"Gentlemen, we do not stop until nightfall," said Aragorn, as the hobbits sat down, and pulled out their cooking gear.

"What about breakfast?" Pippin complained. To him, they had been going forever, and he was hungry.

"You've already had it." Aragorn seemed to think that this was an appropriate answer, judging by the expression on his face. Merry obviously knew that that was no answer, but did not speak up. But Pippin knew how a hobbit thought and said, quite sensibly, "We've had one, yes. What about second breakfast?"

Aragorn answered by walking away, leaving Pippin and Merry to follow. "He is no hobbit, I guess," thought Pippin. "But I thought that humans knew about second breakfast."

"I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip," said Merry, echoing Pippin's very thoughts; they thought so much alike.

But Pippin was still worried, and asked: "What about elevenses? Luncheon? Afternoon tea?" He grew more frantic. "Dinner? Supper? He knows about them... Doesn't he?"

"I wouldn't count on it," said Merry, looking at Pippin with a face that showed a little worry. An apple flew from over the hedge, and Merry caught it.

"How come he gets all the luck?" thought Pippin, looking at the apple with some envy.

Merry handed the apple to Pippin and patted him on the back. "Gee, thanks, Merry," Pippin thought, and took the apple, wondering where it came from.

As Merry began to walk away, another apple flew out, and this time hit Pippin on the head. Pippin picked it up, and looked up, bewildered. "Where in Middle-earth did that come from?" he thought.

"Pippin," called Merry, and Pippin had no more time to wonder, as he followed after Merry, still holding the apples tightly in his hands.

He ran as fast as it was possible for a hobbit to catch up to Merry, and asked, "Merry, where did that come from?" 

"What, Pip?" asked Merry, following Aragorn, Frodo, and Sam, as they walked up ahead.

"The apples, Merry. You know," said Pippin. "Someone threw one at me."

If they had been up ahead with Aragorn, they would've seen a faint smile on his face, as he listened to the two young hobbits talk.

"What is it, Strider?" asked Frodo. "I've never seen you smile before."

"You have not known me long, Frodo," answered Aragorn, thinking of Rivendell, Arwen, and the two youngest hobbits. "Mischief makers," he thought, smiling grimly. "They do get in the way a lot. I really hope that Elrond will send them back to the Shire... But yet, I'm beginning to get a feeling for those hobbits. They know nothing, and yet everything. I begin to understand Gandalf's reasoning."

"Strider?"

Frodo grabbed his sleeve, and Aragorn batted him away, not really thinking.

"Aragorn, are you trying to run into a tree?"

This time Frodo was a bit more insistent.

Aragorn stopped. "I'm sorry, Frodo. I was just thinking."

"You love her, don't you?"

Aragorn stopped. "Love who?"

"You spoke of a girl. Arwen. Who is she?"

"Arwen." Aragorn stopped; looked ahead. "She is an elf maiden," he answered at last. "She will cross over the seas with her people."

"Oh." Frodo looked back. Merry and Pippin were chattering on. "As usual," he thought.

"How could've an apple hit you on the head?" asked Merry. "Apples don't fall from the sky."

"I know what hit me," insisted Pippin. "You caught one yourself." He handed Merry the one apple. "Remember?"

"Oh, yes. That." Merry looked thoughtful. "There's your second breakfast then, Pippin."

"Oh." Pippin looked down at the apple he held. "I never thought of it that way."

"Hurry up, slowpokes!" called Sam. "You're gettin' behind, and you'll be left behind."

Merry and Pippin looked at each other; looked at Sam, who, along with Aragorn and Frodo, were quite a ways ahead, and back at themselves.

"Race yah?" said Merry.

"You're on," said Pippin, momentarily forgetting the apple as they dashed to catch up to the others.

When they finally caught up, both of the hobbits were out of breath.

"Beat yah," said Merry, teasing Pippin, as they always did.

"I'll get you next time," said Pippin, gasping to catch his breath, and still stay in step with Aragorn, Frodo, and Sam.

"Slowpokes," said Sam. "What took you so long?"

He asked teasingly, and Pippin and Merry knew this. "You try beating Merry next time," said Pippin, waving his hand in Merry's general direction. As he did this, he looked down at his hand, and noticed the apple again. "I'll get you, Merry Brandybuck," said Pippin, with a glint in his eyes. "I'll get you later."

"I'm so afraid," said Merry, turning to talk with Frodo and leaving Pippin to dream up all sorts of revenge. Neither of them noticed Aragorn's slight smile, as he glanced at Pippin.

As they walked, Pippin allowed himself to drift into his thoughts for revenge. The two had always been pranksters, and always played jokes on each other. Sam was talking to himself. Something about potatoes and Rosie Cotton, Pippin heard. He knew; everyone in the Shire knew, that Sam was in love with Rosie.

Merry was talking to Frodo; Pippin never heard what they were saying, and Aragorn walked in silence, thinking of Arwen, but also Pippin.

"Ah, Pippin," Aragorn thought. "Young hobbit, and is probably still wondering where those apples came from."

And, of course, at the same time, Pippin was thinking: "I wonder where that apple came from. I'm sure that Merry knows. I'll bet that Strider knows too. Hey... Strider... I wonder. He could've thrown that apple from the bush. He was the one who said that we couldn't stop. But he never said anything against breakfast."

"Strider," he asked out loud, "did you throw that apple?"

Aragorn looked somewhat surprised that Pippin had asked. But before he could say anything, Merry piped up: "Pippin, how could you ask that? You know perfectly well that Strider is not the type to throw apples... Aren't you, Strider?" As he said this last part hesitantly, his mind drifted back to Bree... And to Bill Ferny. "That's stick-at-naught-Strider, that is," Ferny had said. 

And the way Ferny had spoken about Aragorn; he obviously hadn't trusted him. But Bill Ferny wasn't exactly the type one wanted to meet in the dark either.

Before Merry could voice his thoughts, Aragorn spoke. "Yes, Pippin, I did throw that apple. You wanted breakfast, I gave you breakfast."

"You hit me on the head!" protested Pippin.

"Maybe it knocked a little sense into you," said Aragorn. "And then maybe you'll stay quieter. Come on. I'd like to keep a set pace, and reach the Marshes by tonight."

Pippin glared at Aragorn's comment, but sped up. They were well on their way to Rivendell now.

"Well, Pip, maybe he did knock some sense into you," Merry said a little later. Pippin had been walking in silence the entire time.

"Huh? Oh, I was just thinking," Pippin said. "What did you say?"

Merry looked at him. "You didn't hear? Pippin, you are being quieter than normal. Even Sam noticed. You usually talk nonstop."

Pippin glared at him. "Well maybe I don't want to always be known as the little hobbit who talks to much, and drives everyone up the wall."

"Sorry," said Merry. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelin's. Strider didn't mean it, you know."

But Pippin didn't hear him, he was to busy thinking up plans for revenge.

They passed into the Midgewater Marshes, and it was one of the worst things Pippin had ever went through. The midges attacked nonstop, and drove all thoughts of revenge from his mind. He still held onto his apple, however.

Pippin was quite the entire time through the Marshes. Merry watched him with growing concern; he had never seen Pippin like this before. In the Shire, they had always talked. They were best of friends, talking about the girls they liked.

Merry smiled, thinking of Pippin, and his reactions to Diamond, when she had told Pippin that she liked him. And he smiled again, thinking about Estella. Then there was Sam. Poor, poor Sam. Rosie liked him, everyone could see it. Sam liked her too, but he was to embarrassed to say it; hiding in 'Mr. Frodo's' garden instead.

"Pippin?" he asked, grabbing Pippin before he walked into the Marshes.

"Leave me alone!" Pippin snapped, shaking himself from Merry's grasp. Aragorn looked back at them for al moment, than looked forwards.

"We are nearly at the end of the Marshes!" he announced, pointing forwards.

"Well, that's a relief," said Frodo. "I was beginning to think we'd be eaten alive. The midges are killing me. And the Neekerbreekers are driving me insane. They must be evil relatives of the crickets!"

"My thoughts exactly," said Merry.

Pippin smiled, for the first time in a while, it seemed. "Yes," he said, "evil indeed. And the midges are as well."

"What do they live on when they can't get hobbit?" asked Sam, slapping at his neck. "I'll be glad to see the end of these swamps."

"It should be a day or so more journey," said Aragorn, "so don't get your hopes up yet."

"Leave it to Strider to burst our bubble," Merry whispered to Pippin. "We must all look foul now."

"I heard that, Merry," said Aragorn, as he took the lead again.

Merry smiled foolishly, and grinned at Pippin. Pippin looked back at him, and didn't smile back. "What's your problem?" asked Merry.

Pippin didn't answer, but followed Aragorn, leaving Merry to wonder silently.

They continued on though the Marshes, and Pippin remained quiet. That night, Merry found himself unable to sleep well, and was just about to drift off, when he heard Frodo speak to Aragorn.

"What is the light?" he asked.

Merry looked off into the distance and realized that it was unusually bright. There was a light, as if it were lightning leaping off the hills. 

He stayed awake long enough to hear Aragorn answer: "I do not know." 

Pippin was also awake, but he was not listening to them talk. He thought, and dreamed up what he could do to get Merry for beating him, and Strider for telling him he talked to much, and throwing the apple at him.

Aragorn remained awake for the remainder of the night, looking at the light, and wondering, himself, what it could be.

It was the fifth day that they finally left the Marshes completely behind, and the midges stopped pursuing them. In the distance they could see a dark, and evil, barrowdownish looking hill; the hill that they were headed for.

"That is Weathertop," announced Aragorn, pointing at the evil looking hill. He and Frodo said more, but Merry and Pippin did not listen to him; it meant little to them. They were both thinking of the Barrowdowns, and the Barrow-wight. But they did catch Aragorn's words: "Not all the birds are to be trusted, and there are other spies more evil then they are."

Merry looked up at the sky nervously, thinking of Bree, and the Ring Wraiths.

Pippin also looked up, but he was thinking that if a bird flew over Merry, it would be funny if it did his business over top.

Frodo glanced up, and wondered what Aragorn meant, and Sam looked up with the thoughts that roast bird would taste good.

They went on, Frodo, quite likely thinking of the Ring, and what he would do with it in Rivendell.

Aragorn was quiet. He thought of Arwen, and Rivendell.

In fact, they all were quiet, with different things on their minds at the moment. Pippin was thinking of revenge again, but he had finally ate his apple. And Merry was thinking of the girls in the Shire, and wondering whether Rosie could like him too.

"You do make me feel uncomfortable and lonesome, Strider," said Sam.

"What do you advise us to do?" asked Frodo.

"I think," said Strider slowly, for he himself really had no particular plan. "I think the best thing is to go as straight eastward from here as we can, to make for the line of hills, not for Weathertop. Then we can strike a path I know that runs at their feet; it will bring us to Weathertop from the north, and less openly. Then we shall see what we shall see."

All day long they walked quietly, and the Marches drew further away, and they left the mists that surrounded the place away, as the day drew closer to its' end.

Pippin was glad to leave the Marshes behind, for even though he had been more quiet, and not for the Marshes, they troubled him, reminded him of the Barrowdowns.

Merry thought likewise, but, like Pippin, did not voice his thoughts on the Barrow. He was more troubled by the hill that they headed for; it had a Barrowdownish look, and he wondered if a Barrow-wight had lived up there at one time.

Aragorn led them towards the hill with little difficulty; he knew where he was headed. The hobbits had little to do but follow him, and wonder silently. Pippin soon found himself thinking of getting Merry back again, though he really had nothing against Merry.

They traveled all day, and did not reach the hill by nightfall, and found themselves camping by a small stream that wound its' way down from the hills, and into the Marshes foul waters.

That night they set a watch, for there was something about the hills that troubled the hobbits. Aragorn, it seemed, did not sleep at all that night, but stayed awake, smoking his pipe thoughtfully.

Pippin slept like a log, for he had been staying awake far too late. Frodo slept an uneasy sleep, as if he knew something was coming, and, surprisingly, Sam slept also. Merry had taken the first watch, for he was not tired.

"Why do you not sleep, Strider?" Merry asked, looking over at Aragorn, who sat there, looking up at the stars; searching almost, it seemed. "You should rest as well."

"I am not tired, Merry," said Strider, thoughtfully. "The land is troubled, a sense of danger lingers here. A sense of foreboding danger. Did you notice how little birds there were?"

Merry nodded, then realized Aragorn wasn't looking at him, and answered. "Yes. There were very few, but I thought little of it. You said the birds were not to be trusted."

"Yes, that I did." Aragorn looked out at the stars, towards Rivendell, towards safety. "But the lack of the birds can also be a bad sign. You need not worry yet, Merry. I need little sleep, and have traveled these lands before. You need not worry, and should rest, like the others."

Merry shook his head. "I am not tired, so I took first watch."

"You don't need to. I am here to watch."

"No, Strider, I am fine with watching. As I said, I am not tired yet," Merry insisted. "I will stay up for now."

Aragorn smiled. "As you wish."

Merry stayed up for quite a while. The moon was waxing, and set an eerie shadow over the area. The other side of the hills were, Merry assumed, bathed in the blue light of the moon. But they sat in shadow, until the moon had moved far enough to light the area in which they camped with silvery blue moon and starlight.

Merry went to sleep soon after that, and Aragorn remained awake late into the night, when he allowed himself a few hours of sleep before dawn.

To be continued

(I can't wait to write Weathertop!) 


	2. The hills leading to Weathertop

** On the Road again:** part two

The Hills leading up to Weathertop

Disclaimer: I still don't own it, you know.

In the morning, when the hobbits awoke, a heavy mist was in the air, and frost was on the ground. The day was chilly; as if some evil covered the area, causing a shadow of fear. But soon, the fog cleared away: the sky was a clear albeit pale blue.

Cheer filled their hearts, and the hobbits felt refreshed, as though they had had a night of unbroken sleep. Aragorn seemed not tired, though the hobbits knew that he had slept perhaps three hours before the sun had arose.

He was as sharp as if the night had never came; to the hobbits, he never appeared tired.

After a minuscule breakfast-- at least for the Shire folk-- to them it would've seemed barely enough to keep them on their feet back at home, though they were getting used to the small meals; they set out towards Weathertop.

"You are looking twice the hobbit you were," declared Pippin to Frodo, speaking up, which had been, over the last few days, a rarity for him.

"Very odd," said Frodo, while he tightened his belt another notch under the dagger that he wore, "considering that there is actually a good deal less of me." He grinned. "I hope the thinning process will not go on indefinitely, or I shall become a wraith."

"Do not speak of such things!" said Aragorn, sharply, and without another word, he took of at a surprising speed, that the hobbits found hard to match.

Aragorn knew the dread fullness of Frodo's words, although Frodo himself did not know. The wraiths were once men, enslaved by their lust for power. Sauron's lies deceived them, and they took the rings of power... and one by one, they fell to the power of the ring. Now they were slaves to his will, Sauron's most dread servants.

Not even the elves could withstand them when gathered together under their fell captain, the witch-king. He knew this. But they were but a shadow of their former power, in the days when Sauron still possessed the ring of power, the One Ring. If Sauron was to regain the ring, there would be none who could withstand him, and Middle-earth would fall.

The Nazgûl pursued them, Aragorn was sure of it. The only hope was to get to Rivendell, to Imladris, and hope that the ring would be safe there for a time. He had to keep Frodo safe from falling under the power of the ring, for then he would become a wraith.

It was the fifth of October. They were six days from Bree.

The line of hills leading up to Weathertop drew closer. There were remains of green moss covered ruins and old works of stone in the clefts of the hills.

"I wonder what my gaffer would say if he could see this?" asked Sam under his breath, shouldering his large, and heavy pack.

"He'd probably think: 'I wonder if that would be a good place to grow potatoes'," said Frodo, coming up beside Sam in time to hear him speak.

"I'm hungry," said Pippin.

Aragorn stopped his pace momentarily. "We will not be stopping until nightfall, Peregrin Took," he said. "We have no time. How many times do I have to throw apples at you to get it into your head, young hobbit?"

Pippin glared at him. "I'm allowed to be hungry," he muttered.

They continued walking on, though Aragorn kept a swift pace, the hobbits kept up rather well.

By nightfall they reached the western slopes of the hills, and there they chose to camp out for the night, as Aragorn seen exhaustion in the eyes of the halflings. He had to remember that he was a Ranger, he spent many years wandering in the wilderness, and they were Shire-folk, untrained in walking such distances.

Once again, he chose not to sleep, but instead kept watch, for the earth was troubled, and some dread fear was upon the land. They had not seen any birds or beasts in the last day, and Aragorn was troubled. Something was coming, the earth sensed it. But he could not.

He feared that the enemy had found them.

But no attack came in the night, and once more, a few hours before dawn, Aragorn drifted off to an uneasy sleep.

When the sun arose, and the orange and red colors of sunrise began to paint themselves across the skies, Aragorn awoke. Colors splashed across the horizon, and gave a sense of cheer to the long abandoned lands, the forsaken areas.

A bright air, there was, for though evil could control the world, the sun still rose and set, oblivious to whatever strife may've covered the world in fear and doubt. For once, Aragorn smiled. There was still hope, there always would be.

Aragorn awoke the hobbits, and after a brief breakfast, they set out to climb Weathertop hill.

For the first time since Chetwood, there was a path to follow, a track plain to see. It twisted around, that was true, but it was still a path, a clear road to follow to the summit of the hill. On either side of it, large boulders and hewn stones screened the travelers almost as a hedge. It dove through hills and dells, and twisted carefully around steep banks, where a fall could've cost an unwary traveler his life.

"I wonder who made this path, and what for," said Merry, as they wound their way down the path, one where the stones were unusually large and close set. They were also less careful than the others, appearing as if at any given moment they would fall, and crush the person walking the path beneath. Merry continued, as if it was comforting to hear his own voice, "I am not sure that I like it: it has a-- well, rather a barrowwightish look." He stopped, and looked at Aragorn, who was leading them through the rocky terrain: this area was less cleared as others. "Is there any barrow on Weathertop?" he asked.

"No," answered Aragorn, "there is no barrow on Weathertop, nor on any of these hills." He continued weaving through the path, and clearing it for the hobbits, who did not have his long legs, and could not step over all the overhanging, and fallen rocks that littered the area. "The Men of the West did not live here;" he continued, "though in their latter days they defended the hills for a while against the evil that came out of Angmar. This path was made to serve the forts along the walls. But long before, in the first days of the North Kingdom, they built a great watchtower on Weathertop, Amon Sûl they called it. It was burned and broken, and nothing remains of it now but a tumbled ring, like a rough crown on the old hill's head. Yet it was once tall and fair. It is told that Elendil stood there watching for the coming of Gil-galad out of the West, in the days of the last Alliance."

Aragorn was learned in old lore, and it was obvious in his change in speech. Now, he was confident; he knew what he spoke of. He knew the past as well as he seemed to know the ways of the wild lands, old lore, and tracking.

"Who was Gil-galad?" asked Merry, but Aragorn did not answer; he was deep in thought, as if remembering something from the distant past; days that no longer were.

Suddenly, there was a low voice, quiet, and indistinct who murmured: 

"_ Gil-galad was an Elven-king._

"_ Of him the harpers sadly sing_

"_ The last of whose realm was fair and free_

"_ Between the mountains and the Sea._

"_ His sword was long and his lance was keen,_

"_ His shining helm afar was seem;_

"_ The countless stars of heaven's field_

"_ Were mirrored in his silver shield._

"_ But long ago he rode away,_

"_ And where he dwelleth none can say;_

"_ For into darkness fell his star_

"_ In Mordor where the shadows are_."

They turned in amazement, and shock, as they realized that it was Sam who spoke.

"Don't stop!" said Merry.

"That's all I know," stammered Sam. "I learned it from Mr. Bilbo when I was a lad. He used to tell me tales like that, knowing how I was always one for hearing about Elves. It was Mr. Bilbo that taught me my letters. He was mighty book learned was dear old Mr. Bilbo. And he wrote poetry. He wrote what I have just said," said Sam.

"He did not make it up," said Aragorn, jerking himself out of the past. "It is part of the lay that is called the fall of Gil-galad, which is in an ancient tongue. Bilbo must've translated it. I never knew that."

"There was a lot more," said Sam, "all about Mordor. I didn't learn that part, it gave me the shivers. I never thought I should be going that way myself!"

"Going to Mordor!" cried Pippin, shaking himself from his somberness. "I hope it won't come to that!"

"Do not speak that name so loudly!" said Aragorn. "Come on."

They wove up the hill, Pippin thinking about Mordor now as well as getting his revenge, Aragorn thinking about getting to the top of the hill as soon as possible, not longer worrying about concealment, Merry thinking about Gil-galad, Frodo thinking about the ring, and Sam thinking about getting back home.

They all had fears, and worries, though Aragorn's were the most strongly founded, for he knew more about the enemy than the hobbits did. Mordor. That name was not one to be spoken loudly, or easily, not with possible servants of the enemy near.

Mordor. The land of the shadow, where nothing but darkness, peril, and fear lurked in the shadows beyond the gate. If a man needs walk in sight of the black gate, and tread the deadly flowers of Morgul Vale, then perils he too, will have. Aragorn was one who had done so; his life was constant peril and fear, though he would not show it.

He was anxious to reach Rivendell, and hoped that Gandalf would be found on Weathertop, as the hobbits hoped. 

To be continued... the next part will be Weathertop. 

Review shoutouts:

X-Smasher 3: Hey, I'm sorry, I haven't reviewed you again yet... blah. I'm glad you like it... my Barrowdowner reviewers said that it was like a missing chapter, and that was the goal! It's suppose to be like that...

Grumpy: Yah... I want Pip to get revenge sooner or later... See, I've write more. Now see that little button that says review...? Click it!

Pipinheart: I'm glad that you liked it. So, are you Pippin's wife, or something? Just guessing by your user ID...

Ice Ember: I'm not telling how Pippin's going to get back at them... It's a secret! I'm afraid that you'll have to wait them. I like your user name, it's cool... and hot. LOL!

Now, wait until the opportune moment to review... that'd be now!


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